


We Rise

by Modvinnie



Category: Avengers: Infinity War - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grieving, Hurt, Infinity War spoilers, M/M, Spoilers, Stucky - Freeform, infinity war fix it, romanogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 15:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14452506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Modvinnie/pseuds/Modvinnie
Summary: This has spoilers for Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 and takes place after the events of the film.Summary: Steve Rogers has known too much anguish. How many times must he lose Bucky? Who in this world does he have left? An Infinity War half fix-it fic that explores Steve's heartbreak. Angsty. Steve's POV.





	We Rise

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this contains spoilers for Infinity War Part 1.
> 
> Relationships: Steve and Bucky friendship, Steve and Natasha friendship, both Stucky and Romanogers if you squint. Started as Stucky feels, ended up as Romanogers feels. Poor Steve. He just needs to be hugged. Forever.
> 
> POV: Steve Rogers

_“Steve?”_

No. Not again. Bucky’s soft voice, whispering my name, carrying on the wind in a cloud of ashes and dust. His arm, slowly extending, reaching for me again.

_“You’re my mission.”_

No. Not again. Bucky’s throaty growl, tainted with grim acceptance of the only reality he knew. His arm, pulled back and slamming into my face, again and again.

_“Aghhhhhh!”_

No. Not again. Bucky’s gravelly yell, full of terror and anguish, echoing off the mountains around me. His arm, stretching in futality, reaching for me again.

This time, I jumped after him.

 

***

 

The snow was soft, the landing padded. I sunk further down, face first, into the soft wetness. I couldn’t breathe but it didn’t hurt. It _should_ have hurt. The serum shouldn’t have protected me from a fall like that.

But if I could survive this fall...

I reached blindly next to me, searching for Bucky. My hands closed tightly on the thick feather duvet. I squeezed and it tore, a soft rip breaking the silence.

Not snow. Not the mountains. Not the 1940s. A bed. A soft, warm, safe bed inside a soft, warm, safe room.

I sat up and scrubbed my hand over my face. It came away wet. My throat was raw. I reached around me again, one more try. I could still hear Bucky’s screams, his voice calling out my name. It echoed around in my head as I reached, again and again.

The blanket was shredded around me in seconds, the sheets with it. I came to, standing in the middle of the room, soaked to the bone with a cold sweat and covered in small tufts of feathers, choking and sobbing and gasping for air. My hands opened and closed, grasping in desperation for ashes and dust.

Small, warm hands pressed against my bare back. I froze. They were too small to be Bucky’s, and both were warm. One should have been cold metal. They weren’t the hands I wanted.

“I know, Steve, I know,” a small voice said. Its edges were tinged in a Russian accent.

“Let it out, zvezda moya. Let it out,” the voice crooned. So I did.

I bent with grief, with anguish. I heard Bucky’s name over and over again. The hands bent with me as I curled to the floor. They wrapped around my back and a warm weight settled against my chest and around my waist. My face bent to a neck that smelled of apples and roses, not gunpowder and grease. The hands were warm. They were small. The weight in my lap was light but not hesitant.

“I have you, Steve. I have you,” the voice whispered. Female. A slight lilt. I knew that voice.

“Natasha,” I begged, I cried. I squeezed her tighter as my sobs soaked her bare shoulder, my tears running in tracks down her skin. I wrapped my arms around her small frame, my hands slipping under her shirt to feel the skin of her back. I was probably bruising her. I couldn’t stop. A desperation was clawing its way from my chest, from my soul. I was choking in it.

“Hold on to me, Steve. I have you,” she said.

I held on for minutes, for hours. I sobbed until no more wetness came, until I was hiccuping in deep, strangled breaths. Slowly, so slowly, the agony of grief washed over me until I was left, hollow and unprepared. Raw.

Natasha was singing to me. A russian lullaby, from the sound of it. Her voice was low and soothing in my ear. She was running her hands through my hair.

For a moment, the words were gaelic, the hands gentler and smelling of lye soap. I blinked and the memory was gone.

I came back to myself slowly. Natasha stopped singing. I stopped holding on to her as a lifeline, relaxing my hands, letting them rest on her hips instead of her waist. She inhaled a deep, slow breath, then did it again. My chest rose with hers.

Slowly, she pulled my face from her neck, her fingertips gentle on my temples. She lifted my face until she could see my eyes.

She was crying, too. Silent and strong. As always.

“He’s gone, Nat,” I choked out. “Buck’s gone again.”

“I know.” Her hands stroked my face, her fingers mixing with my tears.

“I jumped. I jumped after him. When he fell from the train. I jumped this time. I went with him. He wasn’t there when I woke up.”

“I know.”

“How many times, Natasha? How many times do I gotta lose him?”

“I don’t know, zvezda moya.”

“I can’t, Nat. I can’t live through this again.”

“I know.”

She pulled me softly forward until my head rested on her chest, reclining until she was flat on the floor. I went with her, no strength left in me to resist. I curled up next to her, around her, my arms and legs trapping her underneath me. She was the only thing left in the world I had to hold on to.

“I’m here, Steve. I’m here with you,” she softly said.

 

***

 

Warmth. Sunshine. Softness. A melody ringing in my ears, sweet and innocent. Relief, bittersweet and strange, swam through my veins. For a moment, I was at peace.

I shifted and exhaled. My arms and shoulders were sore and there was a knot in my lower back. The peace shifted with me, came up to stroke the hair from my eyes. A warm hand settled on my cheek. I instinctively nuzzled into it, pressing my mouth to the center and inhaling. I stayed frozen for a moment, my face in Natasha’s palm, refusing to open my eyes. Wanting for the first time in my life to freeze again. To not feel. To just be in this moment, this delusion of safety and warmth and love.

I spoke into her palm. A hiss of air came out.

“I didn’t catch that,” Natasha said, lightly. A small smile on her face. Testing the waters.

I cleared my throat and tried again.

“Thank you.” I grabbed her hand with my own, pressed my lips to her palm, finding the smallest ounce of conviction I had left in me. Then I lowered our hands to my chest, over my heart. “Thank you, Nat.”

She stared at me purely. Her eyes swam with clarity and compassion. For the first time, I saw her. I truly saw her and all the love she had to give. I saw the pain, the hurt, the fear. I saw stubbornness and hope. I saw behind the widow. I saw the only friend I had left in this world.

I cried for Bucky. I cried for Sam. I cried for T’Challa and Wanda. I cried for Peggy, and the Howlies, and Howard, and my mother and for everyone I ever loved and lost.

A knock came at the door, hurried and frantic. Natasha reacted before I could, pushing me up to a sitting position and carefully crossing her legs as she sat up, a blank look on her face. I startled at the sudden change. She was a well I could never know the depths of.

The door burst open, clanging loudly against the wall. I moved on instinct to cover Natasha as she did the same for me. We ended up half sitting, half crouching, a mix of limbs and confusion.

Shuri charged into the room, the General behind her. We pulled ourselves to our feet.

Shuri glanced around at the feathers covering every surface, the torn apart bed. I was shirtless, in only a pair of shorts. Natasha was wearing my shirt and I had no idea when she put it on. Shuri took in our state and her excited eyes only glowed brighter.

“Come,” she said. “Something’s happened. We might be able to fix this.”

They left as quickly as they came. Natasha and I stood there, blinking at the door. Something pricked at my skin, starting at my ears and burning before settling softly in my chest.

Hope, I realized.

I grabbed a shirt from the closet and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Natasha tied my shirt around her waist to reveal a pair of shorts underneath. We stopped in the middle of the room for a moment, neither ready to leave. Neither quite ready to hope. Not again.

Tentatively, I reached out my left hand. She accepted it. With Natasha in her rightful place on my left, we walked toward an uncertain, but hopeful, future. It was all I had left.

**Author's Note:**

> This movie wrecked me. Come talk to me on tumblr @modvinnie.


End file.
